


Fire Emblem Inserts

by dei_writes



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-26 20:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dei_writes/pseuds/dei_writes
Summary: a collection of fire emblem x reader drabbles & fics i've written, always taking suggestions of what to write next!





	1. Alfonse/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written on 12.12.18, book 3 prerelease fic.

You were at a complete and utter loss for words, never before had you felt so powerless against an enemy force before. The undead warriors of Hel possessed strength far beyond what you and anyone fighting for the Order of Heroes could've imagined. And as you and Alfonse held each other tight in the privacy of your tent, tears streaming down both of your faces, you couldn't have felt more defeated as Askr's tactician.

The prince held desperate fistfuls of your coat in his hands like he was afraid that you too would fall before him just as his sister had - stricken down by the ruler of Hel's fell scythe as her cries of mercy went ignored. At the thought, another vicious sob wracked Alfonse's body, who buried his head in your shoulder as the tears kept falling.

You moved one hand up to stroke his hair, feebly offering comfort, your empty stare focusing on the closed tent flap before you. You could picture Sharena bursting through, smiling as always, until she took note of both of your bone-weary appearances from where you both sat on your cot. She'd make it her mission to have you both leave the tent smiling, and you and Alfonse would every time.

You didn't want to believe that light was gone. You couldn't.

A fresh wave of determination washed over you and your stare hardened as you already begun to plot your army's next course of action. After today, you'd no longer mourn. You would win against Hel _and_ bring back Sharena, even if it meant you facing the queen of the undead herself.


	2. Líf/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written on 6.28.19

It's a long, tense staredown between the Askran royals as Alfonse confronts his assumed future self: General Líf of Hel. The prince stands tall, his blue gaze unflinching as he awaits his answer, but Líf is unnaturally still. You feel a shiver slowly start to crawl down your back as he directs his lifeless gaze to you; his movements so spiritless and barren. An unnerving reminder that he was part of the undead. 

"You still live." Líf comments dispassionately.

You hear Alfonse's sharp intake of breath, and out of the corner of your eye, can make out how his hand hovers over the hilt of his sword. Sharena and Anna, both standing at your sides, also go on the defense. The former's hand lands on your shoulder, giving it a protective squeeze.

"And you still have a question to answer." You reply evenly despite feeling as if you wanted to sink into the ground. Líf doesn't respond verbally, but the way he narrows his eyes at you provides answer enough. He turned his back towards everyone before vanishing in a self-made portal, leaving you all alone again.

As the Askran trio vented their loss, you were quiet. You had a sinking feeling that you would see him again.


	3. Sigurd/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written on 6.29.19
> 
> this is the most self indulgent one HDHSHDHD i just drink my i love sigurd juice on the daily.

"Sometimes I get tired, y'know,"

Sigurd responds to your quiet admittance with a respectful hum, somehow knowing that you have more to say. He watches you stare out into the vastness of the Askran castle garden - decorated with hundreds of different, vividly colored flowers that it almost makes his head spin.

"the fate of the kingdom lies in my hands and I'm both so, _so_ aware of it and distant at the same time." You continue, and Sigurd listens intensely. "All these heroes I summon along with Alfonse, Sharena, Anna - they count on _me_. I'm the one ultimately calling the shots, and it's terrifying. I wasn't born for this." You say, voice wavering at the last sentence. "I'm so _tired_ Sigurd."

Your shoulders slump forward as you finish and your fingers tap nervously against the wooden handrail of the gazebo as you're met with silence. Interpreting it as a negative response, you ready an apology for throwing your burdens on a man who's already gone through so much, but the gentle hand Sigurd places on top of yours stops you.

"Please, let me take care of you." He requests, and as you stare up at him in equal levels of both astonishment and veneration, he returns it with nothing but utmost devotion. You let out a dry chuckle once you come back down to earth.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that, it's rotten work." You say in your poor attempt to be humorous. A soft gasp leaves you as Sigurd lifts your hand up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to each knuckle before he replied.

"Not to me, never to me." Sigurd replies wholeheartedly. "And certainly not if it's you."

For the first time in a long while, you feel as if you can breathe again. Your laugh is breathless as you hug Sigurd close to you, and the warm feeling in your chest that explodes when he returns it is one that you hope you can keep forever.


	4. Claude/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a prerelease fic babey!! i found it in my docs and decided to post it now

After another long, arduous battle, the sound of fire crackling and your heavy breaths feel nothing short of alien to you; an odd juxtaposition then that of the cries of war. From where you lay, back propped up against an old stone, your mind conjures up the echo of it to fill the silence until help arrives. At this point, you don't care whether or not it's your fellow Golden Deers or a passing merchant scavenging the field. So long as the arrow jutting out from your side gets removed safely and you don't suffer a slow death like countless soldiers before you.

"How are you holding up?" A tired voice from beside you asks, sounding just as breathless as you. Turning your head, you register Claude practically crawl your way to sit with you. He hisses as his back makes contact with the solid stone. It's then that he looks over at you with a smile that still manages to make you feel weak in the knees.

"I'm perfectly fine." You deadpan, giving him a thumbs up for an extra comedic effect. He chuckles, but it turns into a cough too quickly.

"Glad to know," Cough. "we're on the same page." Cough again.

The realization that you two can still joke despite your injuries is a good one. Usually, someone embedded with an arrow, and judging the sick angle of Claude's foot - a broken bone - weren't good conversationalists. But that's how it's always been between you, from childhood to the bedraggled adults of now. A long time ago you could picture yourselves a pair of cheeky elders easily, but the thought of a long life ahead of you seemed too unrealistic now.

You take Claude's gloved hand in your own, lacing your fingers together in a weak grip and you feel his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. "We're gonna make it out okay," He whispers, and you ready a wry quip on your tongue before he interrupts. "and before you get pessimistic on me, I mean it; I'm not letting us die here."

Snorting, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I believe it." You replied. "You've got a way with words. It's one of the many things I like about you." At that, you two fall into silence. Staring up at the sky, dark and covered by thick gray clouds, you wondered whether it was daytime or nightfall. Deciding now wasn't the time to worry, you begin to speak whatever comes to mind. "Y'know I often wondered if I was better off fleeing the army, maybe leave Fódlan entirely."

Any soldier worth their weight would know that perhaps confessing to your leader that you thought of abandoning the cause was possibly the dumbest thing you could do. But you knew Claude well, and in better circumstances, he'd probably throw his head back in laughter. "But it's always been you that's kept me here. I've known you my whole life, and I trust you with it. If I were to leave, I'd want to leave with you."

You look to him for a reaction and find Leicester's leader staring at you with a look of warmth and a smile on his face. Claude presses a kiss to your forehead, ignoring the taste of soot and ash, and tightens his grip on your hand. "Maybe once this is over we can plan a Fódlan getaway. You and me? We could do it."

There's a sense of finality in his words as if he plotted out what courses to take the minute the words left his mouth. Hell, he probably did. But it was exciting to have that future in mind. That one day the world will be at rest, and that you and Claude wouldn't have these talks in wartorn fields waiting for healers to pick you out from the piles of living and dead. After nearly five years, you feel a flicker of hope inside you again.


End file.
